The Day He Kissed Her (9 page)

Lily grabbed two cold beers and tossed one to Mackenzie. He grabbed it, popped open the lid, and raised the can in toast. “So, this is good then.”

“Good?” Lily took a sip, watching him warily.

“Sure,” he said. “I don’t want to be the guy you forget.” He winked. “Trust me, you don’t want me to be that guy.”

“How do you know I’ve not forgotten everything about you except the fact that you’re incredibly arrogant and full of yourself?”

Mackenzie set his beer down on the countertop and rolled his shoulders before glancing back at her. “When I look into your eyes, I see New Year’s Eve. I see every moment of that night, and you remember every single bit of it as much as I do.”

Damn, there went her heart again, speeding ahead and making her feel more than a little dizzy. Lily gripped the chair in front of her, glad that she had something to lean on for support.

Mackenzie trailed his hands across the dark granite counter, his forearms glistening with golden skin. “I look at this counter and I see you bent over it.”

Okay, her knees were going to give way if she didn’t get a hold of herself. Flashes of naked skin, of masculine shoulders, and of her fingers gripping the edge of the granite—of Mackenzie behind her, his hot, sweaty, and naked body sliding into her—made her weak, and she took a step back.

She felt as if they were dancing around the entire New Year’s Eve thing, and frustrated, she shook her head, her voice not as controlled as she would like.

“I’m not having sex with you tonight, Mackenzie.”

He thrummed his fingers on the granite, a devilish glint in his eye, a wicked smile on his mouth. “Maybe not,” he said casually. “But, Boston, we’ve got all summer. And though I’m not real big on the whole being patient thing, when it’s something I want, I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

I
can’t do this with him.

“So why don’t we take our time and see where this goes? No strings. No expectations. Let’s just roll with it.”

Lily considered his words carefully, her pulse beating a rhythm she hadn’t felt since the last time she’d laid eyes on him. She
wanted
to pursue this. Whatever the hell this was.

“No strings?” she asked.

He shook his head and took a step closer. “Nope.”

“I call the shots?”

“I don’t mind a woman being in control. That’s kind of sexy.”

He bent his head and her lips parted, waiting for his mouth—wanting to feel him on her. Against her. In her.

Lily closed her eyes. She felt his heat invade every pore on her skin and just when she couldn’t stand the anticipation anymore…

Just when her hands started to creep upward, intent on burying themselves deep in hair at the back of his head…

He whispered against her ear and a whole new set of shivers rushed across her skin.

“Do you have any meat in the freezer?”

It took a moment for her to process his words, and she yanked her head back, annoyed at the grin on his face.

“Meat?”

“Steak maybe?” he asked with a nod toward the fridge. “I’m starving. Thought I’d barbecue us up something.”

Slowly she moved away from him. Already he thought he had the upper hand.

A thrill shot through Lily, and she let her eyes move down his bare torso until she rested them on the nice package between his legs. “I’ve got some meat.”

“Good. Do you want to get started?”

Hell, yes.

Lily nodded and moved aside. “After you,
Mac
.”

Now if she’d been thinking clearly, the grin on her face would have faded immediately, and she would have run away as far and as fast as she could. Because Lily St. Clare wasn’t in control.

She was so far from control that she wouldn’t know what control was if it bit her in the ass.

As it was, Lily pointed Mackenzie toward the fridge and headed outside, toward the deck and the grill. She missed the wicked smile on his face and the way he eyed her up, as if
she
was the tasty piece of meat he’d be having for dinner.

Lily St. Clare should have treaded lightly…

Because from the looks of it, Mackenzie Draper was hungry.

Chapter 9

“You do have a shirt, right?”

Mac glanced across the table at Lily. She looked annoyed. Maybe more than a little annoyed. Maybe kind of hot and bothered and annoyed. The thought made Mac smile, though he was careful to keep it hidden. He didn’t want to piss her off, but he sure as hell liked getting under her collar.

The sexual buzz between them had grown steadily over the past few hours. It was thick and meaty and like an adrenaline rush—he was high on the effects of it, and it was a high he’d take any day. It had been a long time since a woman had gotten under his skin like this—a long time since he’d been so caught up in all of it.

The seduction and the romance. He wasn’t an asshole. He knew what women wanted, and he was more than willing to give it to them—as long as they didn’t go getting any ideas about anything permanent.

It was nearly nine, and they’d shared a great meal. The steaks had been grilled to perfection, something Mac had picked up working his way through college at a steak house in the city. The salad Lily had thrown together was simple but tasty—the caramelized walnuts had been a great touch—and the company? His eyes settled on Lily.

The company was outstanding. Lily was smart, witty, and engaging. They’d danced around each other all night, and the sexual undercurrents were something else. Damn, when he finally got her back into his bed, it was gonna be explosive. The fun part was getting there.

Mac took a sip of his red wine and settled back in the chair as he gazed at her over the rim of his glass.

“Something bothering you, Boston?”

Irritation flickered in the depths of her eyes, and Mac leaned back even more, totally enjoying himself.

“Can we dispense with the Boston thing? Please? I get it, Mac. The accent. Ha. Ha. But it’s getting a little old, don’t you think? I do have a name.”

Mac shook his head and answered without hesitating. “Nah.”

Her eyebrow shot up. “Excuse me?”

He couldn’t hold back his grin any longer, and her eyes narrowed dangerously as she gazed back at him. “I like calling you Boston.”

“What if I don’t like you calling me that?”

“You know you do.”

She opened her mouth to say something but then snapped it shut. She took a good long sip from her wineglass and set it down carefully in front of her. She stared at the glass for a bit, her long, delicate fingers twirling around the edge. Damn, but she had beautiful hands. Mac thought of her artwork.

Talented
hands.

He thought of New Year’s Eve, his mind wandering to a moment when her hands had been all over him. Caressing. Stroking. Holding and massaging.

Lily St. Clare had really talented hands and her mouth…those lips…

He moved a bit, trying to ease the ache between his legs, but it was no use. He’d been sitting across from Lily for the last hour and most of it had been spent with a raging hard-on. Watching her mouth, the way she swallowed, slow and sure, was enough to get the fantasies going. It was a good thing that she couldn’t see the situation between his legs because it would totally blow away his plan to be in control, or at the very least, his plan to
appear
to be in control.

She looked up suddenly. “Tell me about your family.”

Mac’s smile didn’t waver even though something cold and nasty stirred inside him. “Not much to tell. I’ve got three sisters and a brother.”

“That’s it? That’s all you got?”

When cornered, always deflect. It was a life lesson he’d learned before he even knew what it was. The easiest way to avoid fists coming your way was to place blame somewhere else. Didn’t exactly inspire sibling devotion, but it sure as hell saved his ass on more than one occasion.

Lily wanted to know about his family? Hell, there was no way this Boston princess could even begin to comprehend the tragedy that was his childhood.

“I’m not much for details.” He eyed her carefully. “What about you?”

“Please,” she said, heavy on the sarcasm. “Do you seriously expect me to believe that you didn’t Google me?”

Sure he had. It was the first thing he’d done when he’d gotten back to New York City. He knew all about Lily St. Clare, or rather, he knew what everyone else on the planet could find online. But that shit wasn’t real. It didn’t tell the entire story.

“What’s up with your sister?” he asked.

A slight tightening around her mouth told him that there was a lot there. Her sister was a few years older than Lily and she’d posed for
Playboy
, more than once, had been involved in an infamous sex tape scandal with some senator’s son, and had appeared in a reality show on MTV. There were numerous other half siblings, due to the fact that her father had remarried four times.

The St. Clares as a whole were famous for being rich and beautiful, much like the Hilton girls, and from what Mac gathered, Lily’s sister was a mess.

“Maddison and I aren’t close. Haven’t been for a long time.” Lily took another sip of wine and paused. “I had a brother. Blake. He was…he was an amazing man, and I miss him a lot.”

“He served with Jake and Jesse,” Mac said, eyes on her lower lip as it trembled slightly.

Lily nodded. “Yes. After the incident…after the ambush that killed Jake’s brother and injured Blake, they brought him back here, to the States. Back to Texas. He hung on for a long time you know…he was so strong, but in the end he didn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry.”

She quickly changed focus. “What about you? Are you close to your siblings?”

He thought of his older brother, Ben Jr., a guy he hadn’t seen in nearly five years—Mac had no idea where he was. Last he’d heard, Ben Jr. was in Hawaii, working as a pilot flying tourists around the islands, but who knew if he was still out there. His two older sisters, Lisa and Dara, had fled Crystal Lake when Mac was still in high school. They’d married guys they met in college, had kids of their own, and both lived on the West Coast, just outside of San Francisco.

He hadn’t spoken to either of them since the Christmas before last, though he knew his mother kept in touch because she made it a point to let him know how well they were doing, how successful and happy they were. He wondered if it was bullshit. He wondered if they’d managed to break the cycle of violence or if they too hid bruises and broken arms behind closed doors. He thought of Becca, and his mood immediately darkened.

“Mackenzie?”

“Ah, not particularly. My younger sister is in town for the summer with her kid. She’s staying with my mother.”

“Oh, how old is your…niece? Nephew?”

“Nephew. Liam. And I think he’s…he’s ten.”

“Ah,” Lily replied, her eyes thoughtful. “Just visiting?”

Mac’s fingers tightened around the stem of his wineglass as an image of her black eye floated in front of him. “I have no idea. Her prick of a husband beat the shit out of her and put her in the hospital. But I wouldn’t be surprised if she heads back home before the week is out.”

What the hell? Mac exhaled as he clamped down on the surge of emotion inside him. Why would he open his mouth like that?

“Sorry,” Lily said. “I didn’t know…”

“Don’t worry about it. It is what it is.” He spoke abruptly, pissed off at himself. He never shared that kind of shit—not even with Jake or Cain. Christ, how many times had he showed up at the Edwardses’ place, his lip split open or his arm in a sling and he never once said a word? It was the elephant in the room—his friends knew it was there, but they never talked about it.

“Is she…is she alright?” Lily asked hesitantly.

Is
she
alright?

“No,” he replied. “She’s not alright.”

She’ll never be alright. None of us will.

Silence enveloped the two of them, but it was a silence filled with heavy and dark things. It permeated the air around them and the light, easy, flirtatious meal had suddenly changed into something entirely different.

It had become something dark, and he hadn’t seen it coming.

Suddenly all thoughts of seduction fled as the ever-present anger inside him, the one that was never far from the surface, had the muscles across his shoulders tightening. He knew his mood would turn black. There was no stopping it. He downed his wine and pushed back from the table.

He needed to run or punch something—preferably the punching bag he’d had installed at the cottage.

“I should go.”

“What?” Surprise widened Lily’s eyes and a sliver of regret rippled through him. But he knew that the ugliness of Becca’s situation—the restless anger inside him—would ruin any chance at a normal evening for the two of them.

It was his own damn fault for opening his mouth.

Mac nodded at the table. “I’ll help you clear this stuff, but it’s getting late, and I…”

He had a bottle of whiskey at the cottage, and he was thinking that some alone time with Jack was what he needed right now. Already, his mind was filled with things he didn’t want to think about, things he wanted to forget.

He could always count on Mr. Daniels to get him through. Lately, he’d been trying to curb the need to disappear into the bottom of a bottle of vodka, but sometimes the need was too strong. Like right now.

The difference between him and his father was that if he was gonna go on a bender, he would do it alone. Less chance for someone to get hurt that way.

“Late? It’s barely nine o’clock.”

He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

“You’re really going to go?” Disbelief colored her words—disbelief underlined by a healthy dose of pissed off.

Mac got to his feet and tossed his napkin on the table. They were outside, sitting on the deck, and a slight breeze had picked up, throwing long strands of Lily’s blond hair into the air.

“Lily, trust me. I’m not great company right now.”

“Unbelievable.” Lily tossed her napkin and got to her feet as well. “Are you kidding me?”